


Five People Who Realized Catherine Is Fucking Awesome (and one person who already knew)

by leupagus



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-10-29
Updated: 2010-10-29
Packaged: 2017-10-13 01:45:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/131434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leupagus/pseuds/leupagus





	Five People Who Realized Catherine Is Fucking Awesome (and one person who already knew)

**Danny**

Steve apparently had some kind of point of honor about not answering his phone before eight o'clock, so Danny didn't bother to call ahead; he brought some bagels from the one place that did them halfway decent and hoped for the best. There was no answer at the front door, but the deeply embarrassingly He-Man truck was still parked in the driveway, so Danny circled around to see if the back door would get any better results.

Steve was just wading into the water, too far to call, when Danny came around the corner -- somehow the fact that Steve went for a morning swim wasn't a surprise. Danny wasn't about to go in after him, so he sat down at the patio table to wait him out.

Just then the back door slid open and -- "Danny? You must be Danny, right?"

The woman standing there, in a cute pair of gym shorts and a horrifyingly ugly t-shirt with GO ARMY BEAT NAVY written across the chest, wasn't familiar. She was, however, holding two mugs. "Yes I am," he said, standing up. "Especially if that's coffee."

"Of course it is," the woman replied, padding out onto the patio. "I'm Catherine. Steve's friend." She gave him the mug and then held out her hand.

Her hand was warm from the coffee, and she had a twinkle in her eye that Danny remembered from every woman who'd ever broken his heart. "Yeah, Catherine. I remember, you got us the recon for a case a few weeks ago. Thank you, by the way."

"For the coffee or the recon?" she asked, smiling.

"I have to choose?"

Catherine laughed and started down toward the beach; Danny trailed after her. "Steve's a hard guy to say no to," she said, settling down on a beach chair. Danny drank his coffee and kept his eyes eyes away from her long, long, very long legs. "First time I met him was--" she laughed and shook her head. "So, you know that Steve's crazy, right?"

"I've been briefed," Danny replied.

"I'll bet. Anyway, about ninety percent of his particular brand of crazy is just, whatever, innate. But about ten percent of it is from the Navy. I met him while we were both at Annapolis, and he was -- I swear to God -- he was keeping a goat _in his room_."

Danny blinked. "A goat?"

"Bill the Goat," Catherine confirmed. "It's the school mascot. Anyway, someone, probably from West Point, had been making threats about stealing him, eating him, whatever. Apparently Steve thought the best thing would be if he kidnapped the goat first."

Danny was still a few paces behind. "So Steve had a goat in his room? Is he -- that's the dumbest thing I've ever heard."

"Yes!" Catherine crowed, looking triumphant. "That was my reaction too! But whenever I tell this story, I'm always telling it to crazy people and they think it shows dedication to the school or something."

"There was a _goat_ in his room. For how long?"

"Oh, the whole week. It ate his towel at one point. And I think a pair of shoes."

"Oh man, I wish I had a tape recorder for this," Danny said.

They spent the next half hour trading horrible stories about Steve, and by the time the Man Himself came back out of the water, Catherine had already extracted a blood oath from Danny that he'd forward her the awful mullet pictures Chin had found in an old yearbook.

"Hey there," Catherine said innocently as Steve glared, dripping, down at both of them. "Nice swim?"

"What were you two talking about?"

"Oh, you know," she replied. She sipped her coffee. "So is it true you thought a nose ring would be a good idea when you were sixteen?"

Steve glowered at Danny, who was busy snorting coffee up his nose, then back at Catherine. "I'm burning that shirt," was all he said, and trudged back up to the house. "Be ready in five minutes."

"Take your time, Billy," Danny called, and Catherine cracked up. Steve paused, his hands bunching into fists, but he went into the house. "So can I ask," Danny said, "What _is_ with the shirt? Aren't you in the Navy too?"

"Yeah," Catherine grinned, "But I dated a grunt a few years ago and every time I wear this, Steve gets another grey hair. It's awesome."

"I think I love you," Danny confessed.

  
**2\. Chin**

Chin was getting on his bike to go home just as a rental scooter pulled up beside him; the rider popped off her helmet and said, "Sweet ride, man."

He was hungry and sore from where a suspect had tried headbutting his shoulder, but Chin always had time for women who liked his bike. "Thanks. You too," he added, grinning.

"Now that's just mean," she said. "It's not my fault it costs more to ship a bike from Oregon than it does to buy one. I'm renting this until I can find something that doesn't make me want to kill myself."

"You've got a bike on the mainland?" Chin asked.

The woman sighed, wistful. "Yes. Cruelly imprisoned in my brother's garage, although I have a horrible fear that my nephew is taking it out for joyrides. I've got a picture," she added, with the same hopeful tone Danny used whenever he had new photographic evidence that his daughter was the cutest kid ever.

This time, though, Chin was actually interested, and took her phone admire the slightly-blurred pictures. He squinted. "Is that a Triumph?" he asked.

"Triumph Rocket Three," the woman said. "I mostly got it because the dealer told me it was too much for me. But let me tell you, there's nothing like it."

"I'll bet," Chin said. He was still flipping through the pictures; one of them had the woman sitting on the bike with a man riding behind her. They were both wearing shorties and shit-eating grins.

The woman noticed his frown and leaned over. "Oh yeah, that's a friend of mine. He'd always complain about riding bitch, but I think he secretly liked it."

"Is that _Steve McGarrett_?" Chin asked.

The woman looked surprised. "You know Steve?"

Chin doubled over laughing.

  
**3\. Kono**

"Okay," Kono yelled over the crash of the surf, "I'm going to push you in about ten seconds, you just paddle really hard and pop up, okay?"

Catherine had her surfboard in a deathgrip and she looked terrified, but she just nodded.

Kono timed the wave and heaved the board toward shore; Catherine started paddling, clumsy and too shallow. The wave caught her anyway and Kono yelled, "Up! Up! UP!" and then Catherine was one her feet, wobbling and about as graceful as a dead duck, but she was riding the wave and, Kono thought, shrieking her head off.

She rode the wave all the way to the beach, where she staggered out and collapsed face-first in the sand, one arm wrapped around her stick. Kono frowned and waded back in.

"You okay?" she said once she got close enough.

Catherine rolled over; she was covered head to toe in sand, and her expression was shell-shocked. "That was the single most amazing thing I've ever... ever," she panted.

Kono laughed and dropped to her knees. "Yeah, it hits people like that."

"I -- like, I kind of want to make out with you right now," Catherine confessed, sitting up and scrubbing the sand off her face. "In a totally don't ask, don't tell kind of way."

"I think the boss would kill me," Kono said mildly, and Catherine giggled.

"Oh my God, that's -- okay, I'm going to try that again," she said, and got to her feet. Kono watched her for a second, then grabbed her own board. Catherine didn't seem too interested in any more coaching.

  
**4\. Grace**

Steve's lady friend had really pretty hair, and she let Grace practice French braiding on her for a whole hour while Danno and Uncle Chin argued about stuff and Kono and Steve played tag football on the beach. It looked a little funny when Grace was done, but Catherine said it was the best braid she'd ever got and left it in the whole night.

  
**5\. Rachel**

It was hard to admit, at first, that she enjoyed the parties. Danny had always mocked them, when they'd been married; he never saw her money or her job as remotely threatening, but he certainly thought her colleagues and her friends were amusing, and she had to admit he was right. She'd bully him into a nice shirt and suit and he would zip up her dress and they would roll their eyes at the necessity of talking with people whose daily income was more than Danny's entire pension plan. She had done it for work, he'd done it for love, and at the end of the night they would compare who had the ugliest watch or the ugliest purse as they slid out of their uncomfortable clothes and into jimjams and t-shirts.

But Stan threw these parties the way other people threw barbecues in the backyard, and after the first year Rachel started to enjoy them, not as an opportunity to mock but as a chance to feel as glamorous as she, now, apparently was. Gracie sat on her bed as she put on her makeup and jewelry and asked wide-eyed questions, and she was allowed to stay up past her bedtime so that Rachel could sneak away at some point in the evening, give her a tiny sip from her champagne glass and tell her all about the beautiful dresses.

Rachel often missed Danny, but never in those moments.

Danny showed up occasionally anyway, because he and Stan _still_ hadn't finished hating each other and so Stan invited Danny to every party with the cruel politeness only old money can cultivate. Once in a blue moon Danny was bloody-minded enough to accept; he always drank too much and stood in a corner, the way he never used to when they'd been married, and the evening would inevitably end with Rachel yelling at him on a balcony or in a guest room or in a hallway.

But this time was different; Rachel knew the second Danny stepped through the door with a stunningly beautiful woman. "Hope that's all right," he said, as Stan shook the woman's hand and introduced himself.

"I'm hardly going to throw her out because you neglected to put 'plus-one' on your RSVP, Daniel," she said, and Danny rolled his eyes before gesturing to his date.

"Rachel, I'd like you to meet Catherine Rollins."

"A pleasure," Catherine said.

"Likewise," Rachel said, noticing the way Catherine had her arm curled casually around Danny's.

An hour or so later, she found herself trapped in a horrid conversation with some diplomat, and was too relieved to be anything but grateful when someone touched her elbow and said, "I'm so sorry to interrupt."

Harvey paused in mid-mumble and blinked at Catherine. "Not at all," he said.

Catherine beamed at him. "I just wanted to ask about the Degas. Would you mind if I stole her away for a moment or two?"

At this point the man had lost the thread of his inebriated monologue completely and just nodded, and Catherine steered her away. "You make an excellent white knight," Rachel told her.

"Thanks," Catherine said, looking over her shoulder. "Although we should probably go check out the painting; that guy's still watching you. Danny told me your husband -- Stan, right? -- got it for your anniversary present?"

Rachel nodded. "It's in the library," she said, and they set off. "Have you known Danny long?"

"A few weeks. I'm actually friends with him through his partner Steve; we go way back, and when Steve couldn't come tonight, he roped me into it."

"Oh," Rachel said, wondering why she felt both relieved and disappointed. "So you and Danny aren't--"

"No, me and Danny aren't," Catherine said as they went into the library. "But I'm trying to set him up with a friend of mine. He's a great guy."

"Yes," Rachel agreed. "He is."

Catherine made approving noises at the Degas, and they talked about the various museums they'd visited, places they enjoyed and placed they'd loathed. As they walked back to the party, a thought occurred to her. "Did Danny put you up to that rescue?"

Catherine looked smug. "He wanted to rescue you himself, but I figured Stan wouldn't appreciate you having long conversations with your ex at his party. Besides, I was serious about wanting to check out that painting."

"You are a master politician," Rachel observed.

"It's rude to insult someone you don't even know," Catherine laughed.

  
**+1. Steve**

Steve had just turned on the coffee maker when the doorbell rang.

"You look ground-pounded, Commander," Cath informed him when he opened the door.

"Long night," Steve explained, standing aside to let her come in.

Cath raised an eyebrow. "If she's still here, I can come back," she offered.

It took a long second for Steve to understand what she was talking about. "I -- no. No, it was," and he couldn't help the full-body shudder. "My sister," he tried to explain.

"Oh _no_ ," Cath said, her expression horrified. "Game on?"

"What?" Then Steve remembered what Cath had told him about that first meeting with Mary, back in October. "I hate my life," he decided.

"Your life sucks," Cath agreed, setting down her bag. She opened her arms, a mock-sympathtic expression on her face. "Hug it out, bitch."

Normally Steve would glare at her, but he really needed a hug. "There was so much screaming. And moaning. I think she started reciting the Hail Mary at one point," he confessed against her shoulder, and only sighed when he felt her laughing.

"So where are they now?" she asked, running her hands down his back. She let him go after a brief, but very nice, squeeze of his ass.

Steve shrugged. "I think they're still in her room," he said.

"But you don't know for _sure_."

"I guess not," Steve said. He rubbed his face with his hands. "Why?"

"Because," Cath said, pulling him forward toward the kitchen, "If you don't _know_ she's in her room, you could _reasonably think_ she's already left. I mean, she could be gone, right?"

Steve peered at her suspiciously through his fingers. "Right."

"Right," Cath said. "So, if you think your sister's _not_ here, there's no harm in some good old-fashioned kitchen table sex, is there?"

Steve considered this. "Did you ever know," he said seriously, helping her up on the table, "That you're my hero?"


End file.
